Dirty Little Secret #32

I don't like whiners.

I am well on my way to becoming one. Here is a list of the things about which I would like to whine:

My children fight like cats and dogs.

My daughter cries at the drop of a hat; I informed today that if she doesn't stop crying in dance class that her lessons will be cancelled. She likes dance class; she begs to go. If she can't complete the small and well-spotted tasks presented to her there without the waterworks, then I won't cart her there anymore. Mommy doesn't like crybabies.

My house is dirty.

My two-and-a-half year old son is becoming increasingly aggressive. I don't know if he just "being a boy" (which I don't really believe in anyway), or has a problem. I find myself yelling at him, which is not helping to resolve the issue.

I have too much work to do and I fear that I cannot handle it's completion along with that of all of my other responsibilities.

My neighbors complain about the dogs barking.

We STILL don't have enough money.

There. That's done. I have my own variations of all the small and petty problems owned by everyone else in the Western world. And now I leave you with Halloween photographs.